Acquainted with the Night
by Annikaya
Summary: One overheard comment in the right place and suddenly the Phantom of the Opera is presented with something new to think about. Perhaps Christine really isn't that great...
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: I decided a long time ago that I didn't think Christine deserved the Phantom. Yes, I do believe she had some idea of what his life had been like and the sort of person he was by the end but she had to be forced into seeing those things. Christine practically threw herself at Raoul like some weak, fainting woman without the ability to stand up for herself. So…I present to you a slightly stronger woman!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera and make no profit off of this story._

* * *

It was not an unusual thing in the Opera house to hear someone praying, not now with dread hanging on everyone's shoulders and death just around the corner. No, what would be unusual would be to hear someone praying _for_ the cause of everyone's panic. And yet, in the dim and lonely hours of morning, that is exactly what one little dancer was doing. 

"Heavenly Father. Please hear me. Please…keep Christine away from the Phantom. She's destroying him! She doesn't care about him and she'll go with that vicomte of hers. It's not fair and she doesn't deserve the Phantom. He doesn't deserve that. Please, Lord, keep him safe." Meg paused, searching the fancifully designed window glass before her for inspiration, for the words that would sway God to her side. She found nothing and so she just repeated "_Please_," before adding "Amen." With nothing left to say she rose to her feet lightly, brushing the dust off her frilly pink skirt.

The voice stopped her at the door. "Did you really mean that?" It echoed across the room and Meg looked back curiously, even though she knew she would not find him.

"Yes. Christine's my friend, Phantom, but all she wants is someone to take care of her. Her vicomte is young, attractive, and rich. She'll see him as everything she needs. She sings for you because you promise that protection right now."

"The Music…" His voice sounded uncertain, even though the distortion of the echo.

"She will marry the vicomte knowing that any wife of his could never lead a life on the stage." She knew that for certain, remembering giggling and girlhood confessions whispered in friendship. Then, softer, she added "She doesn't love you."

She waited for the voice to say something else but it was silent. "I'm sorry," she told him, not knowing if he was still listening or not. With one last backward glance she left the chapel and the Phantom to their silent contemplation.

* * *

She knew better than to pray aloud now, when she knew he could hear her. She was right too, as he addressed her as soon as she was alone. 

"Doesn't she care about the Music?" the voice, as before, came suddenly, startling her.

"I don't know. It's all she's ever known; first from her father and now from you. And she thinks you are her father's angel."

"Is that the only reason why?" There was anguish there in that beautiful voice, that voice that gave her delightful shivers.

"I don't know." she repeated.

"The Music…" the half-sob hung in the air.

"Phantom?" she called but, like the last time, he had apparently gone. "Phantom! There are other people who can appreciate music!" But she didn't know if he had heard.

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_Please review! Reviews are like hugs for your heart._


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera and make no profit off of this story. _

* * *

Christine was white and trembling when she emerged from her dressing room after the last performance. "What is it?" Meg asked, terrified. Tears begin to make their way down her friend's face. "Father once spoke of an angel. I used to dream he'd appear. But…the Phantom says he is _not_ my angel-that he's a demon. I didn't believe him but, oh Meg, he told me he'd done such terrible things! My father promised me that he would send me the angel of music. My father promised me! What shall I do?"

Meg frowned, wondering what exactly the Phantom had told her and why. "Don't be upset Christine. It'll be alright. I'm sure-"

"Christine! What is it? What has happened?" Raoul interrupted, coming near and seeing her frightened features.

"Raoul! It was terrible!" She hid her face in her hands and Raoul immediately drew her close.

"Don't be afraid Christine. I'll protect you from that monster! Come, we'll take my carriage." He led her away down the hall, leaving Meg behind. Absently Meg wondered how Christine could still be so pretty even while so distraught. She was definitely jealous.

Looking around to see if anyone else was looking, Meg quickly closed herself into Christine's dressing room. "Phantom? Phantom, are you there?"

"I gave you my music. Made your soul take flight. Now, how you've repaid me, denied me and betrayed me…" Just a snatch of song, drifting softly.

"What did you tell her? Why did you tell her?"

"To see…to see if you were right. But who was I to hope for love with my sins?"

Suddenly she felt so bad for him, for some pitiful, lonely man hiding in shadows and wanting so desperately something beautiful for himself. "The Lord can forgive you."

"No one can forgive me."

"I can."

"I killed a man."

She thought of that terrible moment, the body swinging and jerking on the rope, the fear that had split her soul at the sudden sight. "I know."

"No, not him. That was an accident. I was only going to threaten him but the idiot slipped and fell."

"Then who?"

"When I was young. He beat me and kept me locked in a cage. So I killed him."

Meg remained quiet, not knowing how to respond.

"Aren't you going to say something? To tell me of my crimes or to tell me to repent?" His voice was bitter now, mocking her.

"No. What would you have me say? I wasn't there. What's done is done. Whether you're sorry or not is up to you."

"You're much like your mother. She didn't say anything, just helped me leave that place and come here."

"What place?"

There was a long, painful silence. "A place for God's mistakes."

"God doesn't make mistakes."

"You wouldn't say that if you knew."

She frowned.

"Don't do that. It's unattractive."

"What? You can see me!"

"Look at your face in the mirror. I am there, inside."

Curious, she peered toward the full length mirror, only to discover that it had become more of a vague window, the dark outline of the Phantom within. He bowed mockingly to her, cape sweeping out behind him, features dark and handsome.

"Oh!" She blushed.

"Do I frighten you?"

"I just didn't expect you to be so…"

"What?"

She blushed again. "Good looking."

He sneered but she ignored it as she came closer to the mirror.

"Please, may I know your name?"

The visible half of his face reflected his complete surprise. "My name? I'm the Phantom."

"No, your _name_."

"Why, so you can tell precious Christine and her fool Raoul that I'm just a mortal man?" Betrayal still laced his words.

"So I can talk to you. It's rather silly to keep calling you Phantom all the time. And it's unfair when you must know my name."

His picture in the mirror started to grow fainter and the mirror aspects started to reappear. She didn't think he would answer her question. Finally, just before his face disappeared entirely his eyes met hers. "Erik." And he disappeared once again.

His face stayed in her mind; his dark, brooding eyes haunting her. Thinking of that face, she wondered at the kind of person he was. Reflected back in those eyes she could see the capability for both great kindness and great cruelty. What had he gone through, what had he seen to cause that capacity for cruelty? He said he'd been beaten and caged… Why had someone so talented and intelligent been locked away? And he was lonely, that was plain through those desperate features. Mystery upon mystery laid themselves upon him, covering him like the mask he wore.

She wandered, distracted. It was like a puzzle to be solved. He fascinated her.

Madame Girysaw the distant look in her daughter's eye and said nothing.

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_Author's Note: Drop me a line and tell me what you thought!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Notes: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera and make no profit off of this story._

* * *

"Meg! There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere!" Christine exclaimed, cheeks rosy and eyes sparkling. "Do you have your costume for the ball yet?"

"What…oh the masquerade?" Meg asked. "I'd completely forgotten about the whole affair."

"I'm not surprised. You seem to always have your head in the clouds these days! Tell me who is he?"

Meg laughed, "Just because you're in love doesn't mean we all are, Christine! In fact, I've been thinking about the Phantom lately."

Christine gave a tiny shiver of fright. "Who isn't?"

"Has he tried to talk to you?"

"Not since that terrible night. Raoul thinks he's been scared off. I'm afraid he's just waiting for something."

Meg shook her head sadly. How could they all be so wrong? Didn't anyone try to understand him at all? Instead they were all so caught up in their own lives, in their own sense of adventure and excitement. They were so eager to believe that he was some sort of supernatural demon. "You're not very nice to him and it was he that got you your chance in the spotlight."

"He only did it for himself! He lies about everything!"

Meg felt torn. Yes, Erik had let Christine believe he was the angel, but Christine had turned on him awfully fast. "Let's not argue. You will understand in time."

Christine laughed. "I don't want to talk about him anyway. Do you have your costume?"

"No. Do you?"

"Raoul and I are going in matching outfits. He said he wanted me to be his princess."

"You always look like a princess! I can't wait to see it though."

"What are you going to do about your own? Do you need help?"

Meg smiled. "You're much to busy with the production. I'll just ask mother. In fact, I'll find her right now."

"Don't forget to show it to me before the ball!" Christine laughed. "I want to make sure I can find you there!"

"I will!" Meg promised and hurried off to search for her mother.

Unfortunately, Ms. Giry was nowhere to be found. She wasn't in the costume dungeon or out fitting the cast. Meg wandered further and further trying to find her.

"What 'ave we 'ere?"

Meg looked up, startled. It was one of the tech people, not one of the ones she knew. A big man, he lurched slightly on his feet, obviously drunk and just as obviously smelly.

"Have you seen Madame Giry?" Meg asked. "I need to ask her about a costume."

"What about what's under the costume, eh love?" He reached toward her.

"Stop it!" Her voice was sharp.

"Ooo. A reg-yoo-lar spitfire!" Despite his drunken state, he managed to move fast enough to grab her arm. "Let's see how you like it rough!"

"Let me go!" Her voice sounded shrill in her own ears. How could this be happening? Happening here in her own home, the Opera House?

He laughed and his breath puffed against the side of her neck. It felt dirty and she wanted to wipe it off. He reached for her other arm and she batted at him ineffectually. "Stop!" she shrieked.

Suddenly the man was ripped away and flying through the air to tumble against the stone wall. "You **dare** attack someone in my theatre?" Erik's voice was dangerous and angry. "Did you think no one would notice?"

"Y-You!" The man scrambled to his feet, eyes bulging in fear.

"I am everywhere!" Erik proclaimed grandiosely but Meg couldn't fault him for that.

The man grabbed at his belt and sent his little dagger winging through the air aimlessly, his fear and lack of experience spoiling his aim. In an instant there was a six foot blade against his throat.

"Do you think you can best **_me_**, little man?"

The man whimpered in terror.

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to lower this blade and you're going to run. Very fast. You would do best not to try my patience. Mercy is not something I am in the habit of giving out." Erik's voice was a deadly whisper. Meg watched with wide eyes as the sword was lowered and the man desperately raced off, tripping over himself in his haste.

"Are you alright?" Erik asked her, sheathing his sword.

"Y-y-yes." she said although she felt anything but alright. "Thank you!" And completely overwhelmed, she threw herself into his arms, sobbing her relief all over his jacket.

He flinched badly at that first contact and held himself rigid as he tried awkwardly to pat her back. "I'll kill him." he told her and it sounded like he was trying to make her happy.

"N-no. Don't kill him." Meg drew back and wiped at her eyes. "I don't want you getting into more trouble because of me."

"Can you make it back to the others?"

"I don't want to go back there yet."

"Very well. Come then." He led her further down the hall and up to a pretty wall hanging that had been there for ages. Hidden behind was a small door which he led her through. A lit torch waited in a bracket on the inside, evidence of how Erik had come. Lifting it, he led her through dark, twisted passages that led steadily downward. Ahead Meg could hear the lapping of water reverberating back towards them.

"Where are we going?"

"Where I live."

"Oh." She hadn't thought of that somehow and dimly she had supposed that he was always there above, listening behind walls. He helped her into the boat, standing at the prow to row it. She gazed curiously around, thinking that it was like an entire secret world down here.

"Don't you ever get lost?"

"I did at first. But I have had time to learn my way."

"Just how long have you been down here!" She was aghast. Had he lived all this time without sunshine or fresh air?

He shrugged. "I really don't know. It's not too bad." He changed the subject. "We're just about there now." The boat rounded one more corner and entered through an arch. As they did, giant pillars erupted out of the water to their sides, candles lighting as they hit the air. Meg gasped in amazement and Erik's lips turned up at her reaction. Gently the boat ran aground on the island that was lit by the masses of candles.

"Mademoiselle, I bid you welcome." He held out his hand to help her up.

"It's amazing! How ever did you manage it?"

"There are tunnels all over the city of Paris. It's easy enough to get what you need if you know where you're going."

"But weren't you afraid of getting lost?"

"At the time I was more afraid of being found than getting lost." His tone was one of amusement but Meg didn't think there was anything funny about the image of a little boy running scared through the dark tunnels.

"Would you like to rest? Or food perhaps?" he asked her.

"Oh, no thank you. I'm alright." She wandered ahead of him, examining her surroundings curiously. She stopped by a large red leather-bound book. "What's this?"

"My masterpiece." Erik's voice was passionate and she looked back at him, startled. His expression was fierce and proud and reminded her of a hawk somehow. The expression nearly took her breathe away.

"An opera?" she asked.

"_My_ opera."

"May I?" her hand hovered over the cover.

He hesitated, then nodded abruptly. "No one's ever seen it."

"Not Christine?"

"She would have been my lead, but no. She hasn't seen it. And never will, now."

Meg watched his face carefully as he spoke of Christine but only a faint trace of regret showed there, for which she was glad. She seated herself at one of the plush chairs at the table and opened up the manuscript.

* * *

"Meg…"

"Shhh! I'm almost done" she told him distractedly.

"It's getting late."

"Just a moment." she forestalled him, eyes scanning over the last few lines. She shut the book with a sigh. "Beautiful. Thank you so much for letting me look at it."

His long eyelashes swept his cheek as he looked down in recognition of her compliment.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Why haven't you published it?"

"How am I to go out? This face hides under a mask for a reason!" His tone was suddenly bitter and angry.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean…"

He turned away, cape swirling. "Come, we must be going. Your mother will be missing you."

She reached timidly for his arm. "May I come again?"

"If you wish." he helped her back to the boat and set off for to return her to the world she knew.

* * *

_Author's Notes: I don't know if any of you've noticed but I've tried to take a few of the song lyrics and insert them into dialogue. Anyway, review and let me know what you think._


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera and make no profit from this story._

* * *

"Meg! Have you seen the postings board?" Christine asked. From her tone it was clear that something scandalous had occurred.

"No, what is it?"

"The Phantom left a note. He accused one of the crew of being a would-be rapist! Imagine, working here! The man left just hours ago. Said his reputation is ruined and he's never coming back here."

Meg shuddered. "Good!"

"You don't think the Phantom's lying?"

"No." Meg replied stiffly. She really wanted nothing further to do with the matter.

"Say, did you ever get your costume together? I can't wait for you to see mine. It's so pretty!" Christine's face lit up in excitement.

"I've been so busy lately I just haven't gotten a chance. And mother and I never seem to be in the same place at the same time for me to ask her to do something up for me."

"Are you going to have enough time? There's only a few days left and your mother is awfully busy as it is with everyone's costumes for the production."

Meg shrugged. "It won't be something incredibly fancy anyway. It's not like cast and chorus make that much money to spend it on a dress you wear only once."

"Oh!" Christine's hand flew to her mouth in dismay. "I'm so sorry Meg! And here I've been prattling on about my dress this whole time!"

"Don't be sorry. I'm excited for you Christine. It must be wonderful to have a _vicomte_ care for you."

"I don't ever think about it that way. We just grew up together. And he was so kind to me after Father died and before I came here."

"And now?"

"Oh, he's wonderful Meg!"

"I'm glad you're happy." And truly was, even if she regretted the way things had gone between Christine and Erik.

"Look, there's your mother!" Christine gave Meg a little push. "You should go ask her about your costume right now!"

Meg smiled back at her friend and hurried after her mother.

"What is it Meg?" Madame Giry asked her daughter as she marked down something on a clipboard.

"I meant to ask you-I still need a costume for the masquerade."

"Come by the costume dungeon tonight and we'll see what can be done with the spare material left over from _The Magic Flute_."

"Thank you Mother." Meg said and tried not to grimace at the thought of what kind of costume she'd end up with from the remains of the last opera's fabric. She hadn't much cared for it at the time.

"Now shoo! I have work to do."

* * *

Meg knew she was early that night but there was always something interesting to look at in the costume dungeon. She always felt like a child playing dress up when she was in there, examining outfits and creating fairy tales to go along. Her fingers skipped along the racks, feeling the velvets and satins, the silks and furs. She even pulled a few off the rack to hold over herself in the mirror, imagining herself in them. She was careful to put them back exactly as she'd found them, not wanting to mess up the organization system.

On a side table lay a glimpse of white and dusty rose. Curious, Meg unfolded the gown and held it up. Instantly she was jealous of whatever girl got to wear this for the production. It didn't seem to her to be quite in keeping with the style of the other costumes but she'd given up questioning costuming after having seen how they could so easily be transformed. Still wondering, her fingers sought out the tag in the inside of the neck that would tell her the cast member to wear the gown. Her own name greeted her eyes. "But I already have my costume," she murmured.

"It's for the masquerade." Erik's voice came to her softly.

She turned but didn't see him anywhere. "You shouldn't have. I could have done with something of mother's."

And what was _I_ going to do with a lady's dress?" His voice was playfully mocking.

Meg smiled and held the dress up to herself in the mirror. "It's beautiful. Thank you, Erik."

"I could never let that pitiful vicomte out-do me."

"You really dislike him, don't you?"

"He's a foolish puppy. He has no concept of the real world."

"That's no reason to hate him, is it?"

"I despise ignorance."

And Meg was relieved because it wasn't real hate, only disdain. "Well, thank you even if you only did it to get back at him."

Abruptly he appeared to her behind the mirror. "Not only for that. I wanted you to wear it."

She smiled. "Will you be there?"

"Perhaps." She could tell by his face that he'd already made up his mind but she couldn't tell what he'd decided.

There was a sound from the door and Meg glanced back to see her mother enter. She glanced back at the mirror but the Phantom had disappeared.

Madame Giry's eyes fastened on the dress. "I see you will have no need of me."

"I should still make sure it fits."

"_He_ will have made sure of that."

"Erik?"

Her mother's eyes widened for a second as though she had not known his name. Perhaps she hadn't. "You should go put it away before you get it dirty."

"I will. Thank you." She kissed her mother on the cheek and left.

Madame Giry stared hard at the mirror. "My daughter is not a game piece, monsieur."

"I never thought she was. She gives me uncommonly good advice. She is much like you in that regard."

"What are you planning?"

He sounded bored. "Nothing at the moment."

"Why do I not believe you? You are always scheming."

"You wound me Madame. Truly."

"I'm sure. Just see that you keep my daughter out of your games."

His voice was suddenly deadly serious. "I would never hurt Meg."

Madame Giry nodded sharply. "See that you don't." She turned on her heel and left, her words hanging heavily in the air.

* * *

_Author's Note: Please review. I haven't gotten very many reviews so I'm worried no one likes this. And if no one likes it, then I completely need to redo my writing style and I would be very sad._


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Notes: Once again, I do not own The Phantom of the Opera and make no profit off of this story._

* * *

"Meg, you look beautiful!" Christine exclaimed, rushing over to greet her friend as she entered the ball. "Wherever did you get the dress?" 

Meg blushed and swayed from side to side, feeling the full skirts brush against her legs like a caress. "It was a gift from a friend."

At that, Christine's brown eyes showed worry. "Meg…"

The blonde laughed. "Don't be silly, Christine. I know better than to make that kind of "friend." Trust me, it's nothing to be worried about."

"Who's it from?"

Meg barely hesitated. "You don't know each other."

"Tell me about them then!"

"Ah, Christine. There you are!" The vicomte walked up, smile open and charming. He bowed and held out his arm for her. "May I have this dance, lady?"

Christine's eyes sparkled and a rosy blush appeared in her cheeks. She looks lovely in love, thought Meg as her friend was swept onto the floor. She wished just once someone would look at her the way the vicomte looked at Christine. Of course, half a dozen other men were always looking at Christine with that look of utter devotion as well. Meg watched the two dance, chatting briefly with some friends and trying a few h'or devours. It was fun to see everyone's costumes but soon, with Christine and her other friends busy with their dates, she began to grow bored.

She peered over the crowd to find the distinctive hat her mother wore and then weaved her way through the crowd to her side. "Mother, I think I'm going to retire."

Madame Giry was inspecting the other guests critically, seemingly looking for something. "Wait." she told her daughter in her regular brisk manner.

"For what?"

But her mother wouldn't tell her, only turned to watch the special performance of singing and dancing down the main staircase. Meg watched with only half an eye, used to more impressive displays on stage.

Suddenly a preternatural hush fell over the room. Meg could hear Christine gasp loudly and followed everyone else's gaze up onto the top of the staircase. There, dressed in scarlet, face bold and proud, stood Erik. Calmly he descended, the crowd parting fearfully before him. He stopped before Meg, wordlessly offering his arm.

Her lips curled up in amusement, eyes dancing with barely suppressed laughter. He always had to make a statement, didn't he? She swept low into a curtsy and took his arm. He led her into the suddenly empty dance floor and leveled a glare at the orchestra. They seemed to gulp audibly but timidly struck up a song.

No one dared join them on the floor as they danced. "I'm glad you came," Meg said softly.

"And miss seeing the dismay on the faces of all these foolish peacocks?"

She leveled a look at him, reminding him that she too was dressed up.

"They have no sense of style. No sense of beauty, of the power, at all."

"They do their best. Everyone should be recognized for effort."

"If everyone had your kind heart, Meg Giry, there would be no lack of beauty in the world." He told her solemnly, eyes staring directly into her very soul, and she knew that Erik did not say things he did not believe.

"You give me too much credit."

The song was beginning to wind to a halt. In the sudden silence he took her hand and kissed it. "It is not everyone that would dance with the Phantom." Meg didn't know if his words were in response to hers or to the eagerly listening audience. There was a sudden flash and explosion of smoke. Everyone shielded their eyes and when they looked again, he had gone. Even if he had only made use of stage effects, it worked in getting him away unseen and confirmed everyone's belief in his "supernatural" abilities.

The room filled with the buzz of supposition and shrill, hysterical voices. Christine immediately rushed to Meg.

"Are you alright? What did he say to you? Did he hurt you?" She clasped Meg's hand tightly.

"We only danced Christine!"

Christine's face was full of worry. "Did he say anything? Threaten you?" Her casual vilification of a man who had done so much for her enraged Meg.

"You know, just because you did not look for anything but a monster does not mean that there is a monster. Perhaps if you all treated him decently, he'd return the favor! I would have expected _you_, Christine, to be less shallow!" She tore herself away from her friend's grasp and stormed out of the ballroom.

* * *

_Author's Notes: I realize Christine doesn't come across as the nicest person in this story. She's still a good friend and a good person but she is only human. I think most of us could manage to restrain our curiosity and not rip off Erik's mask. It was rude and I think most of us have better manners. And most of us would not be horrified by his face. We might be grossed out but we would still realize that he's a person and not a monster just because of his face. Christine's reaction is, in my opinion, a bit much even when one considers the times. She claims to be such a good, pious girl but I don't think she quite lives up to that. She's too caught up in herself and her own pain. She's selfish. Obviously, I don't like her too much but I tried not to portray her too harshly. Let me know how you think I did (hint, hint!)._


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera and make no profit off of this story._

* * *

"Would mademoiselle care for a more private engagement?" Erik's voice seemed to whisper from right behind her.

"Yes!" She knew her voice was still angry and sharp.

"Ignore them Meg. They are ignorant fools." He appeared out of nowhere again and began leading her through another hidden doorway to the place he had made his own.

"That doesn't make it right!"

He shrugged. "People are lazy, seeing only what is easiest."

"And what do _you_ see?"

Erik paused, his proud power draining from his face as he thought. "I see many great and terrible things. One sees much when they can only observe."

She reached out a hand, brushing his arm gently. "You deserve so much better." And she wished so badly that she could give him everything he deserved and did not have.

"You would not say that if you saw my face." The visible half of his face was twisted in self-hatred that made her heart hurt.

"It is not your face that holds my interest in conversation. It was not your face that wrote that beautiful opera."

He turned away and didn't say anything and pretended to be busy with yet another of the hidden doorways. When it opened, a draft of cold damp air hit Meg in the face and made the torch Erik held sputter. She followed him inside, curious.

By now they were obviously underneath the opera house but the strains of the music upstairs came quite clearly into the large room. The size of the room actually made Meg wonder if they weren't directly below where the ball was being held, as it looked to be roughly the same size.

Erik was making his way over to the edges of the room with the intent to light the torches held in the wall brackets.

"You don't have to do that." She called to him. "I'm not afraid of the dark.

Even with his back to her, she could hear the wry amusement in his voice. "I've noticed." But he listened to her and only set the lit torch in an empty ring before returning to her.

He bowed to her, cape sweeping out behind him and stirring the dust. "Shall we?"

She laughed. "It's much easier to dance without a terrified audience."

"Life's a stage."

"I don't like the thought of that."

"Don't you like having everyone's eyes on you and you alone?"

She laughed again. "You've been in the theatre too long! You're beginning to sound like some of the leads do. They're sure they're the most talented beings to ever grace the stage."

"That's usually precisely when they lose the best part of their gift. They come to rely on the power of public opinion instead of the power of their talent. There's an essence that deserts them then-a sort of joy in the art itself or a sort of innocence."

"Christine?"

"No. Part of her great talent lies in the fact that she is completely unaware of her great ability. She knows that she can sing but believes it to be no great thing. She does not really believe that she can sing that much better than anyone else. It is that innocence I spoke of. Perhaps if she sings long enough she'll realize."

They continued discussing the theatre and various aspects therein, Meg daring to rest her head on his shoulder as the night grew longer and she grew tired. She couldn't bear to say goodnight though, enjoying herself in a sort of peaceful lassitude. Above, the party continued on, quieter as the band appeared to take a break.

The torch finally sputtered and died, sending them into darkness. They paid it no heed, comfortable in the pose of dancing even though the music had stopped. Meg closed her eyes and listened to his heart beat under her head. "Sing for me?"

His voice, rich and deep, filled the room and Meg knew there was nowhere else she'd rather be. "Night-time sharpens; heightens each sensation. Darkness wakes and stirs imagination…" And Meg saw the heart of the man Christine had turned down.

* * *

_Author's Note: This part was actually the most fun to write. I hope you had as much fun reading this section as I did writing it. Review and let me know what you thought!_


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera and make no profit off of this story._

* * *

"Meg! Where did you go last night? I tried to find you." Christine smiled, obviously thinking that Meg had still been there hiding in the crowd somewhere.

"I slipped out early." Meg told her friend, stretching her leg out to the side to stay limber for the upcoming rehearsal. "Shouldn't you be in costume?"

"I had to talk to you first. I wanted to tell you before I told anyone else." Her cheeks were pink and her eyes sparkling with barely suppressed excitement. She was practically glowing.

"Tell me what? What is it?" Christine's excitement was contagious and Meg could feel the anticipation building inside her.

"Raoul has asked me to marry him!"

Meg squealed and hugged her friend enthusiastically. "Let me see!"

Christine held out her hand with the incredibly large and sparkling diamond. "He said he couldn't bear it if I went on to become famous and left him behind. Isn't he silly?"

"I'm so happy for you Christine."

"I think father would have been happy about the way things turned out too. He always liked Raoul." But Christine's eyes still held pain as she spoke of her father and Meg wondered if her friend would ever heal from her orphaning at such a young age. Her mother having died giving birth to her, Christine had become her father's whole world. As a result, Christine had been closer with her father than most children usually were and his death had devastated her. She had not lost just her father but also her confidant and ally.

A stray thought occurred to Meg. "I wonder…"

"What?"

"Never mind." The blonde dancer waved it off, moving into the battlement frappé step but her strange comment still caught Christine's attention.

"That reminds me. Meg…I'm worried about you. Last night…"

Meg knew what was coming. "I'm sorry I was so sharp. It's just, Christine, you don't believe all that stuff about the Phantom being a demon do you? I don't know what he said to you that night in your dressing room but you must have seen that there was more to him during your time as his student."

Christine's lips thinned into a hard line. "He's done terrible things. Whatever he's told _you_, he's a liar."

"You hurt him Christine. You wanted to spend your big night with Raoul instead of him when he had worked so hard to get you the opportunity. Of course he tried to hurt you back."

Christine frowned. "You don't-" she started to say but was interrupted.

"There you are Christine. Come, you are wanted." Madame Giry announced and took Christine firmly by the elbow. Whatever Christine was going to say was lost.

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_Author's Note: I realize this chapter was kind of short. Sorry! And just as an aside, I really don't know what Erik told Christine to make her so convinced he's a terrible person. I think once he figured out that Christine didn't care for him the way he wished, he would have been angry and hurt. He would have wanted to terrify her and make her hate him. He could make up some really exotic stories and naïve little Christine would believe them easily enough. Anyway, once again I'll beg for reviews! I really like hearing what you all have to say._


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Note: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera and make no profit off of this story._

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"Meg, sing this for me. I would like to hear how it sounds in a female voice." Erik passed a half complete score of music to her across the top of the piano. "I just need to hear that part on the top." 

They were down in his island home, Meg watching as he composed. "Are you sure?" she asked nervously. "My voice isn't really…"

"I don't need perfection. It would just give me an idea of how it sounds."

She cleared her throat and sang hesitantly, waiting anxiously for him to make a comment about her less-than-stellar ability. He didn't even glance up, hurriedly making notations on another sheet and absently humming a few notes, a look of intense concentration upon his face. When he didn't say anything Meg breathed a tiny sigh of relief and wandered a little away from the piano to inspect some of the curiosities he kept. She was busy inspecting a miniature stage when he spoke up.

"You should sing more often. Your voice is not an unpleasant one."

She shrugged, uncomfortable. "It's not worth it. I know my voice isn't anything special."

He raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't mean you shouldn't enjoy it."

"And have everyone comparing my voice against someone's like Christine's? No thank you."

Erik frowned, obviously coming to some sort of conclusion that he didn't much care for. "Music should not be a competition."

"I know. But when you have a friend like her you learn that sometimes it's just better to…I don't know…not make a fuss. She's talented and pretty and everyone likes her. It tends to make anyone else look like they're trying too hard and failing. It's not a big deal."

"That does not make you any less attractive or kind or talented. There are different standards of beauty after all."

"Obviously, if people can think someone like Carlotta worth keeping around!" She joked.

Erik snorted in derision. "That creature had no right to even breathe near a stage. She had no talent what-so-ever and even less class. Speaking of class, how are the wedding plans going for Miss Daaé?"

"Don't you know?" Meg asked, surprised. He seemed to know everything else about the people of the Opera House.

"Not when so many of the plans are being discussed outside of the theatre. I can only overhear if it's spoken in the building."

"Oh. Well, you know I'm the maid of honor."

He nodded, scribbling some more musical notations on the sheet of paper.

"The wedding itself will be held on Raoul's estate. It's very beautiful."

"I would imagine so."

"Are you…are you upset that she's marrying him? I know you cared for her a great deal." Everyone loved Christine and she didn't see why Erik should feel any differently now. She wasn't sure if she should have asked but it felt important to her somehow that she know.

He set the sheets aside to look at her directly. "No. I didn't love her. I just thought I did. I shall be eternally grateful to you for showing me the truth. You have shown me… a great deal. I am extremely fortunate to have met you."

Meg's heart felt like it could light up the whole room with the warmth that spread through it.

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_Author's Note: Well, I don't know if I've succeeded or not but I've been trying to give Meg a bit of an inferiority complex. After all, she has to need Erik the same way that he needs her. And it would be hard to grow up next someone like Christine who is so incredibly talented and gets so much praise. I think you'd stop trying after awhile if you knew that your efforts would never be noticed because someone else was always better without even having to try. You'd be really self-conscious about it too. It's not really Christine's fault or anyone else's-that's just the way it goes. It's not necessarily bad either. My sister always got praised for her math skills so I didn't bother. I chose English instead and I'd say it's all worked out in my favor! Anyway, you know the drill. I appreciate reviews greatly!_


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's Note: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera and make no profit off of this story._

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"I swear Meg, I can never seem to find you anymore!" Christine exclaimed, hurrying over to her friend.

Meg laughed, thinking with pleasure on her time with Erik. She tried not to vanish too often when she might be missed but she was spending more and more time with him, amused by his arrogance and wit, enjoying his conversation, and intrigued by his talent. She never seemed to notice the time flying by when she was with him.

Christine tilted her head, regarding Meg curiously. "You even look different."

"What? I do? I haven't changed anything." Meg was perplexed.

"No matter. Did you hear that the owners hired in a spiritual investigator to look for the Phantom? They want to try an exorcism!"

"What! Why? He hasn't done anything in ages!"

"But who knows what he'll do next?"

"They're idiots! All of them! What exactly has he done that's so dangerous? I'd say he's done nothing but improve this theatre. We finally have leads that can actually sing and act because of him. Even our attendance has improved, everyone anxious to see the ghost for themselves!"

"Is he really that wonderful to you Meg?" And for once Christine's voice was not angry and full of fear but genuinely curious.

"Yes Christine, he is. He's terribly vain and sometimes a bit mean but he's funny and he says the nicest things and really means them. He's thoughtful and sensitive and wonderful. I wish everyone could see him the way I do. He's an amazing person." She felt the smile growing on her face as she thought of him.

"You love him."

"I…I guess I do!" It surprised her to realize that. She hadn't thought about it that way, hadn't realized what her feelings meant. She had only thought of how she wanted to see him and tell him the things she experienced and hear what he had seen and heard. But it felt so natural to hear those words coming from her mouth, so natural to name those feelings.

"I hope he's really worth of that."

"I think the question is really whether I'm worthy." Meg said sincerely.

Christine sighed and laid her hand over Meg's. "Be careful Meg. You're a much better person than you give yourself credit for and I don't want to see you hurt."

Meg hugged her friend, recognizing Christine's reluctant acceptance of the situation. "I will."

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_Author's Note: Please review and let me know what you think!_


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera and I make no profit off of this story._

* * *

It was strange but Erik didn't appear for the next few days. She tried calling to him a few times but he never responded, so she figured he was busy somewhere else. Perplexed, Meg finally decided to find him, searching out the first hidden doorway he had taken her through and made her way down to the boat. A little daunted by the hard task of rowing out to his island, she none-the-less steeled herself and settled herself in and put her back into it. Almost immediately she got a blister and she told herself she'd have to talk to Erik about finding another way to the island.

Quietly she pulled the little boat up to the steps. Erik watched her without saying anything, waiting for her to finish tying the boat up.

"You shouldn't be here."

"Why not?"

He was distracted, pacing and avoiding her eyes. "You shouldn't have come."

"Why not? What's wrong Erik?"

"It's all gone wrong. I didn't think." His voice sounded so lost and desperate.

She stepped up behind him. "What is it?"

He turned to finally meet her eyes. "You told her you love me." Whatever it was that upset him, it was clear that he thought it was self-evident.

"Yes? You're under no obligation Erik. I don't require you to do anything about it." She was still confused.

"But you don't _see! _You don't know!" His tone was full of pleading and pain. "I'm not…You shouldn't love someone like me."

And she understood and wept. "Erik…" Her fingers went to his mask and paused, waiting for him to move away or let her continue. He just lowered his eyes, the heavy lashes sweeping his cheeks. Slowly she pulled the mask away and looked for a moment. It wasn't as bad as she'd feared, as bad as he'd made out. She kissed both of his cheeks, feeling first the smooth skin of his left cheek and then the ridged uneven skin of his right under her lips. Tears shone under his eyelashes as she pulled back a little.

He opened his eyes. "Can you really love _this?_"

"Yes, Erik. I can love you. I do love you."

"But could you really give up everything to live like this?"

"Like what?" Meg asked. "Frankly, I don't see what the problem is. You've lived in the theatre long enough that I would have thought you'd be familiar with stage makeup. You'd be perfectly capable of appearing in public with a judicious application. You're a talented enough musician and composer to support yourself. You could certainly publish that Opera of yours. I don't see that I'd be giving anything up to be with you."

There was a long silence.

"What are you thinking?" she asked finally.

A small, true smile started to form on his lips. "You and I may disagree about your beauty or not-inconsiderable talents but I think once again you have proven your great gift for giving good advice."

She smiled shyly. "Then perhaps you might consider my advice that you come a little closer?"

"And perhaps a kiss?"

Her cheeks burned bright red. "That is excellent advice indeed!"

And Erik, the Phantom of the Opera, took her advice and they all lived happily ever after.

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_Author's Note: Well, that's all folks. Thanks for joining me on the ride. I had a ton of fun and hope you all did too. So, one last time: please review and let me know what you think!_


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